Never Release Me o Xanxus o
by azuredreamers
Summary: This is what you get for acting like a little naïve girl. Finally, you realise: he never sought you. All he ever wanted was warmth during cold nights. Yet, why is it that you still desire to be by his side until he no longer needs you?
1. Chapter 1

"Let go of me—" SLAP.

The demand dies on your lips, cheek already fuming red. Hesitantly, a hand is placed on the burning skin; you are all too bewildered to react, let alone make a noise.

_"When I say shut up, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"_

Seated once again, he brings the new glass – the replacement for the broken one– to his thin lips, finally realising that it is, actually, empty. Calloused fingers holding the glass rise abruptly, giving you a silent order that he wants it filled.

Hesitation is clear in your eyes for a second, but the change is rather quick. Horror of going through more if you continue to stay motionless any longer, nevertheless, sets you into action. Silently pouring the red liquid and withdrawing for the night occurs in a dream-like state for you; you wake up only after escaping from his oppressive aura.

He says nothing to stop you.

Taking a deep breath that does little to calm your nerves, you are supposed to go to your shared room with Xanxus; however, given your delicate state, you never make it there. Instead, your feet take you to the balcony at the top floor without your knowledge. You take a few more deep breaths and let the fresh air into your lungs, knowing better than to allow the hot liquid burning your eyes slide down, or the uncontrollable sobs begging you to go out.

The chilly air makes you shiver but you do not pay much attention to it, focusing more on calming yourself down. It does not take you long to dive into deep thoughts and you stand there, wondering your purpose here at this hideout. A far memory of being sent here to keep matters in control between Vongola and Varia plays in front of your eyes. You remember your request to withdraw after making sure everything was stable, but when the implicit but long-term problem between them reached a dangerous level, somehow, you ended up being here permanently. That was when your relationship with the brutal head of the autonomous assassination squad started — though could you really call it a relationship?

You admit that he's not the most sensitive and romantic kind of man out there; hell, he'd never held you lovingly, nor did he utter sweet nothings into your ear during times of utmost privacy. Nonetheless, you had decided to believe he cared for you deep inside; apparently, you had decided it on your own.

This is what you get for acting like a little naïve girl. Finally, you realise: he never sought _you_.

All he ever wanted was warmth during cold nights.

Yet, why is it that you still desire to be by his side until he no longer needs you?


	2. Chapter 2

"You could… at least, apologise."

"Why the fuck should I apologise!"

Already a week has passed, and yet those are the only words that he says to her. It's unfortunate that she can only gather her will to leave after a week, a whole week of inner turmoil, between her heart and her mind.

"…You know what, just… forget it. I'm leaving." If the previous remarks you had made hadn't found their way through the thick skull of the man, this would definitely do…

…Or so you thought.

At that moment you realise something significant: you've already exhausted all your patience with this man. Should you continue living, you need to escape, and never come back – never look behind.

However, you realise something else. The weight of this realisation is so fresh and so fierce that it leaves you breathless, a tiny gasp escaping from your bruised lips.

The fact that you have consumed all the resistance against this half-naked man standing right in front of you, stubbornness shining in his crimson orbs, is what brings tears to your eyes.

When he grabs your wrist and roughly throws you on the bed, not a single sound escapes you. When his lips dance magically upon your delicate neck, surrendering to his strong will seems like the most logical thing in this world. Even though his calloused fingers are so rough that you are sure bruises are to appear next morning, you let him embrace you — break you.

You softly utter his name; he thinks it is the most magical sound he has ever heard.

His name sounds perfect on your lips.

Realisation dawns upon him that he can never let you go. You are _his_ and he will rip the balls off any man that dares to breathe the same air as yours. He will cut those fingers that trace your soft skin.

Just that moment, he decides he will never –_ever-_ let you know what he is thinking; otherwise, you may get scared of him and try to run.

Although deep down he slightly regrets it, he cannot promise he will never hit you again, or never yell at you; he knows himself all too well.

But he will cage you in his madness, both drowning you in misery and giving you tiny bits of affection and happiness. He will force you to love him.

But he will never let you go.

And you will know this is all he can do. You will learn to live with it.

You _have to_.

You will be the happiest woman on earth at the rare times when he does not hurt you with his touch. 


End file.
